Get Schooled
by beku
Summary: "Please, Egbert. I know my brother's banging your only son right now." But Dave never expected college to be like this.


**hello! if it's not obvious i've jumped onto the homestuck bandwagon and i'm yet to look back... _inseguirsi_ is on indefinite hold especially considering that i wrote that on a totally self-indulgent binge.**

**this is actually... a foursome (dave/john/dad/bro and everything in between) story ahahaha... also the rating is going to go up to M just so you know. get yourself out while you still can. (actually don't i would love to have you along for the ride to hell)**

When it seems like all you have isn't much, it might just be a little easy to give up on the spot. Yeah, bullshit.

You don't know how long it's been going on exactly, but you know it's been going on for a long time. At least since you two came back for Thanksgiving. That's what you know for sure. Maybe. You guess.

Okay, you'll admit, you can't believe you didn't peg this any earlier than you did just now.

"Dave? You awake there?" John asks. You want to stuff your fist down your throat and hopefully gut yourself while you're at it. Oh yeah, if you don't die of a broken trachea first.

"Yeah," you mumble. "I'm good. Did I beat your ass yet?"

"Pfft! Hardly!" You look up to discover that not only did you lose to John, but you'd also lost pretty badly. While you were busy blissfully blanking out, John killed you with a clean headshot, and managed to do it two more times before calling your attention back.

He probably thought that you were—

"You're not throwing the game, are you?"

Bingo. Dave Strider: 1. John Egbert: 0.

"I'd swallow Bro's dick long before I do that."

John goes silent. Dave Strider: 2. John Egbert: 0.

You're really reluctant to put the card up on the scoreboard.

So… John has a secret to hide. Said secret just happens to be Bro related. Huh. You wonder what it could be- just what the _fuck_ in the world would your best friend be doing with your porn star of a brother? You really wish the question didn't answer itself.

You get up after throwing your controller into John's stomach. At least he'll hopefully think you're mad about the game instead of anything else. And once you're hiding behind your fridge door, it's easy to smile like the goddamn sadist that you are at John's groaning because the little shit deserves the pain if he's snogging your brother who just happens to be your property and no one else's.

… Maybe you're a little jealous. Maybe that's clouding up your judgment. _Maybe_.

But you're also just as quick to jump the gun to tell someone you're a little hurt by it all, too. Here's (your) Bro and here's (your) John hiding something behind your back and here's you just flailing around, dwindling each chance you get to confront either of the two.

You call back to John and ask him what he wants to drink. He tells you water. You snort and bring him back a can of Fanta. You can never go wrong with Fanta. Even though you tend to stay with your bottle of apple juice instead. You can only go right with apple juice. He pops open the can. You break open the plastic seal. He takes a sip. You down the whole thing.

Wow. When did you become such a fat ass?

Chugging the entirety of the concentrated drink causes you to choke a bit, and once your coughing fit is over, John and you are falling over each other in laughter. You slap his shoulder and he doubles over his stomach. By the time breathing comes naturally again, you have tears in your eyes and you have to push your shades up to the top of your head to see anything.

And—

Oh, shit. Fucking _shit_.

John's spilt at least half his can onto the futon. Little dumbass. He can see the shock morph into fear on your face, and does his best to dab the drink out with his shirt. He can only do so much before he starts causing more damage than he intended.

And you think he understands.

Bro is a wonderful and great guy to be around. But only when he's not angry. Which is, you face it, next to _never_. You don't know what he does outside of his homemade smuppet porn, but whatever it is always puts him in a bad mood. He would leave one night, a smile practically dancing on his face, those stupid dimples just sitting there taunting you of everything you've ever used them for. About half a day later, Bro would come home, dimples out of sight and now out of mind, hair plastered to his face with sweat, brows skewered together in whatever sort of stress he just managed through.

Oftentimes, you wanted to reach out to him, just as you always did, ask him what's wrong, whisper sweet nothings in his ear and tell him everything would be okay. You both knew whatever was going on wasn't going to be okay. You both knew this was something of a distant past. Bro never touched you like before. You didn't make any advances to lead him to do so anymore.

John, completely understanding the situation that's unfolding in your head (little shit is some _clairvoyant_, you swear), does his best to calm you down. He grabs the remote, apologizes profusely, makes a stupid joke about cake and its health issues. You know he's just trying to distract you from your impending doom.

What he doesn't know is that your fear is more self-induced than this. You're beyond caring about the stupid futon. You're just kind of tired of what it reminds you of, and the stupid _need_ you thought you had to quench by using your brother. You were so pathetic then, you know that now. God, you can't believe you're _still_ living in the same house as him.

What scares you the most is probably the fact that John understands more of Bro than you can ever try to hope. You don't know what there is of the man to find out, and to your best friend, getting intimate with him must be completely natural. And then as you're thinking this, you want to slap yourself in the face. John is your best friend, your best bro, best man for whenever you guess it's time to tie the knot.

God, you can't believe you're so in love with this guy.

You'd really slap yourself in the face if it didn't worry John more.

You turn and grab John's shoulders, making him look you square in the eye. "Dude. Shut up. I am begging you to shut up, please. I got this." And with that, you get up, head back to the kitchen, and retrieve a damp towel. You're glad to find that John is at least relaxing again, though he's moved to the armchair now.

Also.

Bro's unlocking the door and now he's stepping into the house and now he's eyeing the Egbert slouched over in the chair and now you want to vomit at how much more attentive John is to the older Strider. Wow. You're pathetic.

But it doesn't really matter that much. You're not going to have a sticky-stained-Fanta-futon. So you make a short job of dabbing out the sugar juice and scuttling away to hide in the kitchen. You toss the towel in the trash, and your phone is out in record time.

- **turntechGodhead** [**TG**] started pestering **tentacleTherapist** [**TT**] -

**TG**: rose fuck i know it says youre away but whatever  
**TG**: im getting so fed up with this whole bro and john thing  
**TG**: like what am i supposed to even do lmao  
**TG**: stand back and gawk at how hot the possible assfucking could be  
**TG**: because trust me im pretty sure itd be pretty hot  
**TG**: a threesome would be nice actually  
**TG**: uh  
**TG**: yeah you know  
**TG**: im just gonna sit in the kitchen like a dweeb hiding from them  
**TT**: You're not going to do that.  
**TT**: Do you want to know why I know that?  
**TG**: do enlighten me o seer of light  
**TT**: Because I know you're going to do something about it. Now whether or not it'll do any good?  
**TT**: You'll have to see for yourself.

- **tentacleTherapist** [**TT**] is now offline! -

You start chewing on your bottom lip. Ever since the Game, Rose had this stupid idea to try and avoid using her Seer powers as much as possible. 'It's an unfair advantage,' she said. 'It's stupid to know everything,' she said.

And even though you agree with her that knowing which cards are on the table all the time kind of takes the fun out of a game of bullshit, you also think that maybe snagging a hint or two here and there would not hurt at all.

Cheating? You? Please. That's the silliest notion you've heard all day.

Even if it may be true.

What the night comes down to is simple.

Bro pulls out Lil' Cal for a few jokes. (He's never done that with you.)

John tells him how creepy it is. (You've heard this before.)

Bro starts laughing. (That's not _so_ new...)

John is laughing with him. (Okay, that's just great.)

And then John is asking you for a ride home.

That's when you remember that you had just come home for summer vacation today. John, being the wuss he is, still lived on campus, and still hadn't cleared his parking permit, so you, who lived off campus and therefore needed no such permit, drove the two hours to pick him up, and then backtracked the resulting five hours down to the Strider apartment.

Which meant you were the friend that had the car, and not him.

You happily agree to take him back to his house, even if it only means that you get the time with him, and not Bro. Some friend you ended up to be.

So you don't know what you're doing spending as little time as you can at the Egbert house just so that you can pull up on the closest empty street and spend your night there sleeping in your stupid, old BMW E30. Shit's worth less than your own feces, but it's sturdy as hell and manages to get you five hours of shut eye.


End file.
